Healing
by barefootgirl221b
Summary: After the events of "4C" John sees Harold's wound.


_**A/N:** Huge thanks to the lovely Managerie for beta reading! I cannot thank her enough for being on hand with help and advice, providing much-needed encouragement and completing the fic with just the right, heartwarming concluding sentences!_

_This can be seen as Reese/Finch if you squint._

* * *

When Reese returned to their shared hotel room, Finch didn't notice and Reese could see that he held his hand pressed to the side of his stomach with a pained expression. Obviously Finch felt unobserved and gave in to the pain for a moment. Pain that he hadn't told his partner about.

Finch didn't anticipate Reese behind him and as the ex-CIA-agent walked up to him with a cat-like manner and put a hand lightly to his shoulder, he flinched violently. Despite his surprise he had himself under control immediately, his hand not clutched to his body any longer, his face devoid of any signs of pain as he turned halfway and looked at Reese.

"Why must you all sneak up on me like that? Being around former spies will surely affect my nerves sooner or later."

John smiled a little and replied, "Sorry, Finch, next time I'll whistle while approaching you." But then he grew earnest again and asked, "What happened to your side? Are you hurt?"

Finch avoided his eyes, mentally cursing himself for not being able to hide his injury from Reese and answered shortly, "I don't know what you mean. Let's go to the restaurant now before we're too late for breakfast."

He tried to pass John, but didn't succeed because the other man still had a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. John then let his hand slide down, grabbing the recluse's arm and turning Finch gently but unrelentingly to face him. John let his hand wander further down till it lay on the same spot where Finch himself had put his own hand before. Reese pressed cautiously on it and watched Finch's face. Finch had his eyes downcast, biting his lip but as the younger man applied a little more pressure, Finch couldn't suppress his distress any longer and a strangled groan escaped his lips.

John immediately removed his hand to remark "You still don't know what I mean, Harold?"

Finch had closed his eyes, breathing hard, his face by now betraying the pain he was in. Ashamed, he didn't answer.

Reese continued with an angered look on his face, "I thought we made progress. I hoped you would trust me by now. I know that trust isn't something you come by very easily. I understand, but I thought we'd reached a point by now where you do trust me in some way, in your way. Not withholding anything important from me anymore. I don't know if it was the right decision to stay when nothing has changed."

Now Finch looked up immediately, his eyes wide. "Please don't leave again", he whispered with a frightened tone in his voice, for a little moment unguarded. Then, he looked down again, suddenly aware of his unintentional openness and embarrassed by it. He never intended to say something like this out loud. If Reese decided to leave, he wouldn't hold him back, he would accept it, just like he did before.

"I'm sorry", Finch added without explaining if he meant his little outburst of emotion or the fact that he had hidden his injury, probably both. In this moment, Reese just wanted to reassure the other man but he couldn't let the subject go yet.

"Then show me that you trust me, only a little bit. Don't hide anything important from me."

Finch rushed to explain. "It isn't anything of importance, Mr Reese. Just a small stab wound, nothing serious. Miss Shaw was so kind to take care of it."

"A stab wound? Of course, this is important to me! How did that happen?" Reese asked shocked.

"It was my own fault. Our latest number did it to me when you were... ", he paused and swallowed, "when you were indisposed. After you had saved us and had left, Miss Shaw helped me with some numbers. But for this one I had to go in the field, too. Miss Shaw had warned me. I was thoughtless, distracted. And that's the whole story. Really not worth talking about."

Reese clearly had another opinion. He shook his head and started to pull Finch's shirt out of his waistband while murmuring, "I wanna have a look."

"It's really not necessary", Finch replied but let it happen nonetheless. He was afraid to give Reese any reason to leave. To be honest, he would let him do anything to him to prevent that. Being undressed surely was something he could bear despite being a very private person. So he held still while his partner unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt, averting his gaze in discomfort.

As his belly was exposed, Reese could see the bloodstained bandage just under his ribs, way too close for comfort to vital organs, Finch heard the other man gasp and lifted his gaze to look him in the eyes. He was shocked to discover not only deep concern, but guilt there.

"It's not that bad, you see, only a minor scratch", he tried to reason but Reese only looked up at him, touched the bandage slightly and said in a toneless voice, "I have to see it, I'm sorry."

He cautiously ripped the bandage off and looked at the stitched wound. Shaw was an excellent doctor, at least on the technical side, but still a scar would be left for certain.

Reese held Finch's shirt aside while his other hand traced lightly over the injury. The touch was so gentle that Finch suddenly needed to suppress tears because the feeling of being cared for so tenderly overwhelmed him.

"I'm sorry", Reese repeated and now the guilt was audible in his voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, John. It was my own carelessness and Mr Keamy's knife that caused this."

"I should have prevented it", the ex-CIA agent whispered. "I wasn't there."

Now it was Finch's turn to lay his hand on the other man's shoulder, he looked at Reese waiting till Reese met his gaze. Then he began to speak in an earnest and most sincere voice.

"John, you had your reasons for not being there. I accepted your move because it's your decision. You don't owe me anything, I owe you. You're not responsible for this. You're not responsible for me. I never engaged you to protect me, but instead the numbers. If you ever decide to leave our mission, I'll accept it again. Because you – are – not – responsible! I am!" he said with emphasis.

Letting his gaze drop, he continued quietly, "You said I wouldn't take responsibility but I try to, I really do. And if something happens to me, then that's the way it is. It's a risk I take. So, nothing of this is your fault, you have no reason to feel guilty."

As Finch had ended his speech, he looked at Reese expectantly with wide eyes. On the spur of the moment, Reese closed the space between them and pulled the older man in his arms, hugging him gently, making sure he applied pressure only to his unhurt side. While he still held the shirt away from the injury, his other hand lay between the recluse's shoulder blades and he pressed his partner gently against himself, careful not to touch his wound. Finch hadn't anticipated anything like that and was taken by surprise. He tensed for only the shortest moment and then relaxed into the other man's embrace, relishing in the feeling of being held, a feeling he hadn't experienced for so long.

Reese's mouth was close to his ear as he whispered, "I won't leave again."

After a moment he pulled back slowly and just looked into the smaller man's eyes. Eyes that were full of trust and devotion, filled with tears by now. Hoarsely, he added, "I promise."

Then Finch broke the eye contact because he felt the emotions overwhelm him again and said barely audible with an unmistakable quiver in his voice, "Thank you."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Reese patched him up again with hands that could be equally strong and dangerous, he was as tender and careful as one could be. Finch looked at him the whole time. At his concentrated face as he cautiously put a new bandage from the hotel room's first aid kit on the injury, careful not to cause any hurt. A warmth flooded Finch at his partner's touch and closeness. He couldn't even compare Reese's gentle treatment of his wound with Shaw's professional, but uncaring touch. He sighed and closed his eyes as John smoothed the bandage down. All Finch felt at that moment was an all consuming gratitude, a gratitude for having John back in his life. The man who was so much more to him than an employee by now. Who had become his partner, his friend, his companion and meant more to him than he could have ever imagined. That man was back and had promised to never leave again. Finch could relax for the first time in what seemed like years.

* * *

_I just really wish for them to hug, okay? And I was so happy about the ending of "4C", sigh..._

_Okay, this is my first story in this fandom and second one ever, so please be soft on me._  
_I'm not a native English speaker but I do my best :)_

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
